


The push and pull

by KyryeDuBarie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Breathplay, Choking, Friends With Benefits, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Maybe with a lil feelign but that's it, Oral Sex, PWP, Pet Names, seriously, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27638885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyryeDuBarie/pseuds/KyryeDuBarie
Summary: Like this Kageyama isn’t so irritating.No, like this, he isn’t irritating at all.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 11
Kudos: 161





	The push and pull

**Author's Note:**

> SO well, I've been writing this Tkkg alternate ending to my other fic, and though this scene didn't really fit that timeline it just wouldn't leave me alone and since today I felt like writing porn... here we are.  
> Please do keep in mind that all kinks are discussed off page, this is far from the first time they fuck lol  
> Now, onto it! :3  
> Also, play [ this ](https://open.spotify.com/track/5DMbb5FNmQXHvYXfiar4PT?si=Q9kdG6PSRKShZwGEMjm7FQ) song please

Like this Kageyama isn’t so irritating.

No, like this, he isn’t irritating at all.

It may have something to do with how his fingers lay, loose, permissive around Kei’s wrists. If he were to just tap his fingers the right way, Kei’s own would loosen but Kageyama doesn’t, and if Kei knows him -which he does- if he hadn’t told the setter to keep his hands there just in case, they’d be limp by his sides.

Maybe it’s just _that_ simple, the hands that Kageyama takes such painstaking care of, the ones where even the callouses have been calculated for maximum efficiency are but decoration around Kei’s wrists.

And yet, he couldn’t escape them if he wanted to.

The thought makes him press his thumbs down harder on the jumping pulse at the sides of Kageyama’s throat. A choked off groan escapes the setter’s mouth and his half lidded eyes roll back, bent knees tightening around Kei’s hips as he arches up, grinding into his heat, making his pants even tighter than they already are. His hair is already a mess, silky strands of inky blue-black laying over Kei's pillowcase from back in high school.

Still, his fingers don’t tighten.

Kei does let go then, though because he can see the lax way the other’s head is tilting backward, the way his eyes are unfocused in the familiar, dim light coming from the corridor -from the lamp that neither of them had the presence of mind to turn off as they came in-.

And _gods_ , they’re in Kei’s childhood bedroom -something he's been ignoring until now-.

Although maybe that’s just perfectly fitting, this is the first place, the genesis of him ever even -begrudgingly- considering Kageyama other than a too loud, too talented, too hyper-fixated on volleyball, teammate. Here is where faceless, toneless voices that he imagined in the middle of the night turned rougher, hair dark, and maybe Kageyama wasn’t the only one to feature any fantasies, but he _was_ the first. 

So maybe it’s just to be expected that one day he and Kei would be here, older, larger, rutting into each other while Kei chokes Kageyama into dizzy bliss and brings him back by sucking a very conspicuous hickey into the angle of his mandible.

It’s also stupidly hot, to have Kageyama in this bed, he does have to admit.

“Bastard-” Kageyama moans, hips bucking and almost taking Kei’s off the bed. “You know that’s going to show.”

Kei keeps sliding up, taking a supple earlobe between his lips, biting down on it softly. “Afraid your fan clubs going to get mad, king?”

Kageyama scoffs, and then he bucks harder, sending a jolt of pleasure through Kei that’s barely over before he realizes he’s been rolled over. “You’re one to talk, aren’t we here because that stalker girl from the radio station got our address?” the bastard smirks in a way that reminds Kei way too much of himself.

“We’re here because _you_ got all panicked about that.” Kei groans, planting his feet on the bed, just as Kageyama’s hips grind down again. “What do you think she is? A sniper?”

One of Kageyama’s eyebrows shoots up. His hands brace themselves on Kei’s chest, fingertips digging in with enough force for it to be just shy of painful. “Do you remember Ushiji-”

Kei frowns, grabbing a handful of Kageyama’s right thigh, running his nails down the denim. “I’m not Ushijima.” He pushes off the bed with his free hand, while the one already touching Kageyama runs up, scratching more than touching, snaking under the other’s t-shirt until his long fingers are splaying over the corded muscles that cover Kageyama’s ribs.

The setter snorts, cheeks bunching up into dimples in the dim lighting. “Clearly.” His hand follows Kei’s extended arm, from shoulder tourist until his h is under the shirt too. “Maybe I should’ve just let you scare her off. You _can_ be that repelling.”

Or so he says, but his hand doesn’t there, Kei has to suck in a gasp when the t-shirt gets pulling off in a couple of simple, fluid movements.

Maybe it’s the dorky hairdo or the fact that Kei has known Kageyama from the time they were both all gangly limbs and still-melting baby fat, but clothed Kageyama doesn’t look like he’d be this sculpted. But then again, clothed Kageyama -the one that doesn’t have rumpled hair or that _look_ in his eyes- also doesn’t seem like the kind that would arch into the touch when one of Kei’s hands finds his neck again.

Nor does he look like he'd grind his ass back into Kei’s still-clothed erection either at the touch.

“I am aren't I?” Kei mocks, sitting up completely so his other hand can still Kageyama’s hips. “What a weirdo you are king.”

Kageyama’s chin is tilted up in a way that’s almost defiant, Kei hooks a thumb over the bony part. “Maybe it’s just a public service I’m doing-” he says, a glint in his eyes that’s equal parts satisfaction at the jab and lust. It tilts more towards the lust though, when Kei’s finger tractions him downward, so that, even in a position where his head is higher, and he’s looking at Kei through his lashes.

“Well-” Kei smiles in that guileless way that’s so fake, he knows it drives Kageyama up the wall. “-you’re not doing that good a job at it anyways, are you?”

Kageyama glares, he has long, thick eyelashes, that he doesn’t need and that Miwa has always begrudged him -Kei knows because their respective families have decided to adopt the other in some weird way that always keeps them full of food, so neither of them complain- and his cheeks blaze red from annoyance.

Still, Kei can feel him, hard and aching, pressed against his leg, even fuller than before. “Aw, can’t think up a comeback to that?” Kei tuts at him, hand sliding down again. He wraps it around the column of that neck, just tightly enough to not really be gripping at all, but for Kageyama to feel the fleshy part of it pressed over his windpipe and how his pulse starts quaking into the lengths of Kei’s fingers.

 _Fuck,_ Kei’s brain supplies and Kageyama’s mouth echoes, more moan than word.

Only when he’s gotten his breathing under control, only when those hazy blue eyes are regaining focus does Kei tighten his hand. He looks straight into Kageyama’s eyes smugness radiating, knees bending behind the other just in case he needs the support. “Tighter.” Kageyama breathes, not backing down. “Tighter,” He's too stubborn for that, he doesn't give an inch.

And when Kei complies, he begins rolling his hips, over and over, at a pace that would barely be sustainable if he didn’t have the stamina of a professional athlete.

Kei can’t move, without risking one or both of them tumbling off the narrow bed. He groans, rumbling from his chest and up his throat, but he holds Kageyama’s gaze. “Pathetic.” He says, when as he loosens the hold for just a breath, instead of breathing in, Kageyama moans. “That’s more like it, King.” And then he tightens again, enough that Kageyama’s faze goes red and the corners of his eyes shine with moisture.

The languid tap on his wrist doesn’t quite catch him off guard though, he knows the other’s tells, knew a few seconds ago when Kageyama’s other hand found his shoulder for support.

Just in case. _Just in case._

And sometimes Kei doesn’t know who is leading these sessions of theirs, sometimes he feels more swept away than Kageyama looks. Sometimes _he_ is the one with the rolled back eyes and the drool running down his chin -although there’s a tacit agreement that the presence of either of them in the bedroom of the other, isn’t something to be discussed outside of them, so Kei can be alright with that- and even those times he doesn’t know.

Maybe that’s the whole point of it.

The push, the pull, the way that Kageyama shivers when he lets go and the very next second he’s coaxing Kei’s legs straight on the bed and unzipping his pants, talking him in hand. His bloodshot eyes are nothing less than defiant.

Kageyama never conforms, that’s not a bad thing at all.

And when he’s kneeling between Kei’s legs even less so.

.

.

This is Tsukishima’s high school bedroom. There are even a few dinosaur figurines on the shelves, if Tobio hadn’t been too busy getting the stupidly tiny buttons of the blond’s shirt undone when they stumbled in here, he might have even snorted at those.

He looks up, the dim light coming from the corridor makes Tsukishima, in his unbuttoned white shirt, chest heaving, lips puffy from biting, look like something fire-lit and golden, from another time though Tobio could never be able to tell from when.

And the smug smirk the blond directs down at him… He has no choice but to bring a hand down to adjust himself through his hands. The bastard thinks he has Tobio cornered. “Shut up.” he says, out of habit, hand tightening around the base of Tsukishima’s cock. “And don’t look so smug.”

Tsukishima snorts, throwing his head back. “I have the king of the court kneeling between my-” Of course Tobio doesn’t let him finish that sentence, it goes against his very nature. Besides, the gasp that eats away Tsukishima’s smug words when Tobio bends down and takes him into his mouth is pleasing, to say the least.

They’ve done this many times before, so Tobio doesn’t need a second before he starts bobbing, up and down, buildings a rhythm as Tsukishima’s hands thread through his hair and his own hook on the waist of Tsukishima’s pants and now he does pull them down. His tongue laves over the tip, and Tsukishima’s hips buck eagerly as Tobio shoves the pants down. “Mnhh, kin- Kageyama.” Tsukishima breathes out, pushing Tobio’s head down, already getting loud. No one would expect how loud he is in bed, even he won’t admit it sometimes. “Fuck- ahh-”

If his mouth wasn’t currently otherwise occupied, Tobio would smirk..

Still, the position is hardly comfortable, his neck is stating to cramp and he doesn’t miss the way Tsukishima’s eyes drift to where his hips are raised over his kneeling legs.

The fingers in his hair tighten, powerful . For all of Tsukishima’s prim habits, his hands are all callouses and more than a few scars, the tips of his fingers, especially are the perfect amount of rough when he pulls Tobio’s head off him and shifts on the bed, discarding his pants from around his ankles.

Then he’s kneeling on the bed in front of Tobio, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth like he’s torn between saying something mean or something terribly filthy, or both and the same time, but he kisses Tobio instead, hands going straight for his still clothed behind, squeezing the globes with force that makes Tobio gasp and immediately clamp down on that already-abused lip. “I want to choke you while you come on my dick.” Tobio feels the words against his lips more than hears them, and suddenly, he can’t get out of his pants fast enough.

Still, he can’t just let Tsukishima say something like _that_ without some kind of comeback. “And I’m the pushy one.” He grunts, tugging off the obnoxious skinny jeans that Miwa got him for his birthday last year one leg at a time. “Do you want the nickname that bad?” he shoves the pants aside, a grin rising to his lips at the hint of red that takes over the blond’s easy.

To his credit, though, Tsukishima bounces back quickly. “What, I can have it?” he asks, eyebrows shooting up, a lazy hand brushing up Tobio’s chest, stopping for a second to toy with a pebbled nipple, drawing a gasp from his abused throat. “But nah,” he dismisses, scooting back to sit against the headboard. “I’d rather have you sit on me your Majesty, you’re the one that likes to be pushed around.”

Truly, Tobio wouldn’t mind, The only person whose mouth he even accepts being called that is sitting him front of him, looking like the godammned king Midas or some shit, long, full dick standing proudly between his legs. And yeah, definitely, Tobio would call him so, if he asked.

But that’s a thought for another night.

Instead of admitting to _it,_ Tobio crawls forward, legs spreading to bracket Tsukishima’s thighs, as the blond fumbles for something in the pocket of his pants until he finds a small, foil packet of lube. Tobio looks at hi with humor in his eyes. “That isn’t one of the-?”

Tsukishima’s cheeks go bright red. “I _did not_ plan that part of Akiteru’s bachelor party.” He tears the top of the little package off. “But unless you want to go see if there’s lotion in the bathroom.”

Yeah, no, Tsukishima’s parents may be away on a trip, Tobio would still feel a little awkward walking around buck naked in their house. “No shit, I thought you were gonna pass out when-” Tsukishima cuts him off with his lips, probably not wanting Tobio to recall that particular incident with the stripper. It was mocking fodder for weeks in their apartment.

It’s heated, but also a little soothing, as teasing touches over Tobio’s already quaking thighs beckon him to loom over Tsukishima, one of the middle blocker’s fingers already teasing at his puckered hole.

Fuck, he’s- the sting from the first finger entering him is accompanied by Tsukishima sucking on the already formed bruise on his jaw, sending little pinpricks of a dull sort of pain that make Tobio’s skin pebble and itch.

The blond’s mouth doesn’t stop there though, it marks a path down, feeling over Tobio’s pulse before he pulls him closer, two fingers already scissoring inside of him. By the time he realizes, he’s half-kneeling, half-leaning on Tsukishima, the blond leaving bites all over his chest while Tobio does his best to stop his thighs from shaking.

And then Tsukishima starts teasingly pressing on his prostate, and Tobio, wound up, panting, feels a little unhinged. He balances one hand on Tsukishima’s shoulder while his other seeks out Tsukishima’s which has been steadying Tobio’s hips. He grabs that calloused hand, dragging it up, up, up, to his neck, to feel it wrap around more than half of it, snug but not yet pressing.

 _That_ snaps Tsukishima’s control too, Tobio can feel it, the stretching becomes more rushed, frantic. Tobio can’t think, he can’t decide which hand to lean on and sparks of excitement light him up until he’s keening out into the half-darkness. Tsukishima isn’t fully chocking him, not yet, so he pleads feeling his eyes begin to burn a little from the shame and the confused pleasure. And Tsukishima notices, he does. He pulls his fingers out and gently brings Tobio back so his behind is settled on those strong thighs.

The kiss that follows is slow, all-encompassing, like he’s saying it’s alright, but at the same time the hand at his neck doesn’t fully leave, it opens, encompassing all of Tobio’s neck and his collarbone. “Soot closer king.” He says, in a voice that would be a croon in anyone else, but somehow Tsukishima manages to make sound like a command coated in dusted sugar.

Tobio’s hands wind around his neck, his knees go past the other’s hips, the pose is so intimate that he’s glad he’s so aroused or it might be awkward.

-as if anything would be, with how long _this_ , whatever it is, has been going on-

Tsukishima lets him hold on layaways, he gives Tobio’s quaking thighs a couple of rubs with his free hand and then lines himself up. Tobio can feel him catching at his rim, making even more of that giddy sensation rise up in his stomach. “What was that service you were doing, your Majesty?” he asks, mischievous gold, looking up into eyes that Tobio can barely keep open.

There’s no need for masks, or excuses, not like this, Tobio sinks down. “Kei-” pouring form his throat in a way that surprises them both into stillness for a couple of seconds.

Luckily, Tsukishima takes it in stride, there’s a light slap to the side of Tobio’s hip and then that large, impossibly strong hand is back where it belongs. "That big mouth of yours, I-" he cuts himself off. "Unbelievable."

And Tobio has never quite understood the rush of even having it there, but, mimicking their earlier movements, he finds himself rocking back into his lover’s length. The position doesn’t allow him for much of a movement range, but with he way the blond is pressed up against him and how he rubs over Tobio’s prostate every time he does snap up his hips -with, no doubt, the aim of making him cry out and feel how his throat vibrates against the blond’s hand- there isn’t much need for a range.

Time becomes thick molasses, Tobio’s own neglected length is trapped between their stomachs, and though Tsukishima sometimes brushes teasingly over it, he seems more content with leaving red trails over Tobio’s chest and ribs.

At this point, Tobio knows what the blond wants, what he’s seeking, how he wants to feed his ego by making him come undone.

It’s in the dim lit atmosphere, in the terribly intimate position that gives him no place to hide, in the possessive grip of the hand wrapped around his throat that does start squeezing now, cutting off pulse more than airflow, making Tobio’s desperate rocking more and more erratic with how lightheaded he’s getting. He tries to speak, to plead, just a little harder, but there’s barely any air coming in and all that’s coming out is barely enough for pitiful whines as their bodies rock together, tuned to perfection and Tsukishima’s eyes bear into his , as Tobio’s vision goes fuzzy at the edges, and then- and then-

The grip loosens and it’s all brilliant, thick ecstasy that whites out his vision and sets a spark to what feels like everything else in his body.

At the peak of his climax, he feels the blond lose control too, now, with both hands free, he’s holding Tobio’s hips up and fucking into him in a way that he _knows_ is going to make Tsukishima’s thighs cramp later. But Tobio is too far gone to care, he’s slumped over Tsukishima’s shoulders, panting as he comes down and feel the sweat and cum drying on his chest and thighs. When Tsukishima finally stills, he’s still to blissed out to get out of the way like he usually does, usually, after they come down they barely touch each other. “Heavy.” The blond grumbles. But instead of rolling Tobio over, he slides awkwardly down, the shirt -which is miraculously still on- bunching around his waist, until they’re laying horizontal on the bed, Tobio’s head still pillowed on his chest, Tsukishima’s flaccid length still inside him.

And Tobio allows himself a second for his breath to catch, for his heart to still.

.

.

“You ok?” Kei finds himself saying after a while.

“Gimme a sec.” Comes Kageyama’s annoyed reply. It’s not out of place, this _cuddling_ isn’t their usual.

But it’s also strange how little Kei minds, and he’s been dealing with that for the past five minutes. He’s tired too and the warm weight on top of him is making him sleepy. It’s probably the familiarity of the room playing a part too, he muses, making him more relaxed than usual.

Besides, the way they both just-

No, Kei’s too comfortable right now, that’s something for later, it’s not like he’s pressed for time. In this timeless, warm, dim-lighted bubble there’s nothing but time.

He looks down, noticing how the skin on Kageyama’s neck is already starting to bruise. The setter still seems to be coming down from that, as is only natural, Kei figures, he’s sure the other passed out for a second there. Choking always gets him a little apprehensive, but its one of the very few things that Kageyama’s ever vocally admitted to wanting to try, and even liking, and the way it makes the man’s demeanor shift is enough to override that apprehension.

Still, his fingers thoughtfully reach up to brush over the abused skin.

Kageyama’s half-lidded blue eyes shift up to look at him, something bone deep and absolutely world altering in them.

First it’s surprise that fills Kei’s chest, but it quickly fades, morphs into something else, something that wars and wants and it’s far past being correct or incorrect, something that reaches for the thing in Kageyama’s eyes with sticky fingers and hungry teeth.

Kei can do nothing, absolutely _nothing_ but reach in and take it, he wants to do nothing, _absolutely_ nothing but hold it close.

**Author's Note:**

> .////////////.  
> That's all I can say. I'm falling more in love with this pairing everyday.  
> All your comments do make my day and I love to read them.
> 
> Love, Kyrye


End file.
